Not? Perfect REVISED
by boggartmoonhead
Summary: The thoughts and memories of one Thomas B. Collins about one Angel Dumott Schunard. Worth the read! REVISED. Finished ending.


**(Not?) Perfect**

For ten months, it was perfect. A genuine love, a genuine lover. Love, stolen kisses, winks, and long nights staying up talking after making love. I tell myself, upon reflection, that yes, yes that was a perfect love, that those were the best ten months of my life. I never thought about this twice until a couple of years later. I'm sure those months were perfect as memory states, but after awhile it all slips from your mind. You remember you thought that, but the question of fact or fallacy begins to ease into your mind. Maybe it was like when you were a teenager. You were certain that you and your new lover would be '2gether 4ever!!', weren't you? Who says that those ten months weren't a more mature version of that. Or maybe it was perfect then, but wouldn't be now. Maybe you've just forgotten all of the bad from that time, so now, of course, it seems heaven-sent. That is, if you believe in heaven. I remember believing that I could not possibly ever desire another, or desire anything until I was with my Angel again. This came to be proved wrong, but of the couple of new lovers I've had, none have come close to what I remember from Angel. However, since I've started over again, in several different ways, it doesn't seem so unlikely. It wouldn't be the same, of course, but it could match up in different ways. Possibly a more animalistic love than the perfect match.

Don't get the idea that I don't still miss or want my Angel back. You haven't the slightest idea what I would do or how much I would give. I would die a thousand torturous deaths just to have the slightest of glances at my baby well and on the other side. Anything. Anything. Absolutely anything.

A-N-G-E-L is still the code even though I've still not made it to Santa Fe. I really would love to do that some day, but other than being able to make a bit of money, I don't know what I would gain. My serious planning of it was with Angel, and everything was planned with the idea that we would be together in mind. It would hurt too much now. At least, I think it would. I'm not sure. I make it through well enough going to places we went together, and walking past the old apartment building we stayed in. I haven't been in it since we went through her possessions. I'd rather not think about that.

They say time heals. What an idiotic statement. I'm sure all of you have heard someone disagree with it. I certainly do. The only thing time does is erase the memories, and bring to new light with each new experience that your loved one can't do this. That they didn't get this far, they can't know, and they won't ever have a chance to.

In a way, I miss Angel each and everyday, but also I tend to try to 'be over it', and actually be glad she isn't around. Some of the things I've gotten into I wouldn't want her to see. She'll still love me, but the thought of her knowing what I'm doing can make my stomach curl.

On that thought though, you have to wonder if the dead really do know what's going on or not. I haven't a doubt in my mind that there's something beyond this world. There has to be something, a place there, or just anything. I can't see people just with their last breath being gone. How could one truly be gone? Which leaves the question to be that wherever these people are, do they know or can they see what's going on? Do they get disappointed or grieved by what they see, or not? Or does it even really matter? If they're there, are they even themselves, or just a vapor in a shape wandring around near the nice, white, warm light? One really must wonder...

However, the question I'm most concerned with is what is it like for the individual once they've left? I'm still doing decently, which sometimes I resent, but I want to know what will happen to me. And, no, I'm not one to believe in religion, so don't even start throwing the 'if you've been baptized into Christ Jesus' business at me. I digress. Even though I am doing decently, I couldn't honestly survive for too many more years could I? I've had AIDS for just about ten years. Something's gotta give, you know? Suffering isn't on the top of my to do list.

One thing I know is that I hope my death is more peaceful than Angel's. She had to go through pneumonia, the poor girl, and she lost everything before she went. My baby was basically gone the day before her breathing ceased. Not to mention the whole emotional mess afterwards. I know it was because Angel was our group center, and because she was so loved, but I hope to die peacefully or at least quickly. The aftermath should be minimal to none, with my friends sparing me a thought now and then. Too much to wish for, yes, but I don't think mine will hit everyone as hard. I certainly hope not.

Even though I hate the questioning and loss of memory, I suppose it is easier than the pain from Angel's death was at first. Sometimes I could pretend that everything was okay. Look for work, stay busy, come home, stay busy, and hold a pillow close to me at night. If I can concentrate hard enough, holding a pillow can feel as normal as holding my Angel. The negative is that I know what I'm doing, what I'm making myself think, and it hurts all the worse. It hurts all the worse because I see what I drop to just to make it through my day. I realize that I've gone to calling an object my lover in my mind to just go to sleep. And this is when I could, at least, half way believe everything was okay. Other times I'd just stay at home without trying to comfort myself or think that it was okay, and just sit with my head in my hands and remember. Think of what I could be doing. Think of what Angel and I could be talking about, laughing about. Think of where we could be going. What if she'd made it longer? What if I could have kept her? I used to believe I was greedy, but I'm pretty sure that it's not greed. It's just what one needs to survive. I needed an angel, and I was allowed to have my Angel, at least for a short while. I need her here now, but since that's not possible, I'm a surviving shell, just awaiting my death so I can be with her again.

On the other hand, maybe she really wasn't _that_ important. Of course I know she was incredibly important, but maybe my mind has exaggerated. It wouldn't be too difficult. Is this need just a desire for a good loving relationship again, or is it just for my Angel? Who knows. All I do know is that I'll never forget her. I'll never think she wasn't important. I'm also going to look forward to seeing her again, even if things have changed. I want to talk to her, and to see her smiling.

That's all I want.

_Will I lose my dignity, will someone care, will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare? Will I lose my dignity, will someone care, will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare? _

525,600 minutes, 525,600 moments so dear, 525,600, how do you measure, measure a year?

* * *

A/N: Alright, I know that's not much more of an ending, but I think it makes the story more powerful.


End file.
